


His Angel

by mainstreamFragment



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamFragment/pseuds/mainstreamFragment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants nothing more than to be with Castiel, but he worries that he's not worthy of Cas. [Very short; one-shot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Angel

Dean fell back onto the sad excuse of a bed the motel provided in the room he was staying in. It reeked of years worth of bodies—some cleaner than others—sleeping on it. Dean inhaled deeply in preparation for a silence-shattering sigh, but instead broke the silence by choking on the strong scent of cigarette smoke permeating from the age-worn bed.

He reached for the alarm clock which he knew would inevitably be resting on the side-table. He turned it around and the red LEDs showed that it was just after three in the morning. Sam had walked to some bar to look into a lead on the current case. Half of the town's teenagers were missing, and no one could explain why. Dean hadn't been of much use for the past week because, as Sam put it, Dean was "acting like a rude child because his angel was missing."

Not that Cas  _was_  his or anything. Cas admitted they shared a more profound bound, but that didn't mean anything.  _It's probably nothing_ , Dean thought as he played with a loose thread on the comforter.  _He probably doesn't even realize how I feel. Hell, he's an angel of God. He's probably not even allowed to have gay sex…or sex at all._

Dean rolled over and burrowed his head under a pillow. He tried to get to sleep, but regardless of what he did, his mind kept wandering back to the angel. Gorgeous, blue eyes; amazing, dark hair; remarkably kissable lips. And yet that wasn't Cas. That was Jimmy Novak. But Dean wasn't just attracted to Cas for his vessel's appearance. There was more to it.  _A lot more_ , Dean thought as he sat up—a slight pain throbbing in his chest—and let his legs fall over the edge of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Dean ran his fingers through his hair as he listened to the silence filling the night.

"Gosh Cas, I really miss you." Dean nearly jumped when he heard his own voice; he hadn't realized he had said that out loud. Dean  _did_  jump when someone put his hand on his shoulder.

"Dean?"

"For fuck's sake, Cas, you can't just show up like that!"

Castiel cocked his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows. His hand fell from Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I think it's very obvious that I can. I just did it."

"No, that's not what I mean. You  _can_  just fly wherever you want, but you shouldn't."

"And why should I not?" Cas tilted his head a bit more. Dean could have sworn that if he kept talking, Cas would manage to rotate his head an entire three-sixty degrees.

"Cas, I'm a hunter. What if I had just shot you before I knew it was you?" Thinking about accidentally shooting Cas made Dean feel like someone was wrapping their fist around his heart and squeezing as much as they could.

Castiel righted his head and took a step closer to Dean. "My vessel would heal. I cannot be harmed by mortal weapons."

Dean threw his hands up and sighed.  _Why do I like this idiot?_  "Cas, that's not the point. I know I  _can't_  hurt you, but I don't want to even  _think_  about hurting you."

"Dean, you hurt people frequently. I am not a special case." Castiel sat on the edge of the bed beside Dean.

"Yes you are, Cas! I don't like hurting people I love!" he snapped.

"People you…love?" And there it was again: the tilted head which made Dean want to scoop Cas up in his arms and kiss him until both of their lips were swollen from the efforts.

"No, not like that." Dean winced when he realized what he said. Shit _, just man the fuck up and stop being so afraid to admit you like a guy. He's an angel; he doesn't even really have a gender, technically._ "No. No…it  _is_ like that."

"Love…" Dean couldn't tell what was going through Castiel's mind. He chewed a bit on his lower lip as he contemplated what he should do next. To his surprise, he didn't have to do anything. Before he knew what was happening, he felt something hitting his lips. And then he realized that "something" was  _Castiel's_  lips. And holy fuck, the way Cas's stubble was scratching against Dean's face. Why hadn't he been willing to try things out with guys before? Dean opened his mouth a bit more and began to probe Cas's lips with his tongue. He quickly pulled his head back when he realized what he was doing.

He practically jumped off the bed and dashed toward the sink. He splashed cold water across his face. After he wiped it off with the rag lying near the sink, he glanced up into the mirror. He could see Castiel sitting on the edge of the mattress staring at the ground as he pulled at the something on his trench coat. Cas almost looked like a puppy that had just been punished. Dean couldn't stand the expression on Cas's face. Dean walked back over to the bed and sat down by Cas.

Castiel slowly lifted his gaze to look Dean in the eyes. "I apologize, Dean. I should have known you would not be interested in something like me."

"What? I what?"

And damn it, he just  _had_ to tilt his head to the side again. "Were you not just running away from me after I tried to kiss you?"

"Well, yes but—"

"I can leave," Cas said as he pushed himself off the bed.

Dean quickly grabbed for Cas, and grabbed the part of Cas closest to him. "No!"

Cas glanced down at Dean's hand wrapped around his own.

Dean slowly continued. "I don't think you understand. Just…listen."

Cas just stared unblinkingly at Dean.

Dean bit at his lower lip and took a deep breath through his nose. "I…It's just…You're…" Dean let go of Cas's hand and sighed. "You're special, Cas. You're an angel of God. And I'm…a whore…at best. I don't think you really know what you're doing; what it means."

Cas sat down beside of Dean again. "Dean, I'm attracted to you. Your soul is as breath-taking in beauty as your body. When people like each other like that, don't they partake in intimate acts?"

Dean couldn't help but smile at Cas's confession. "Yeah, I guess they do. But I don't want to rush things with you either."  _Because you're perfect and I don't want to break you or mess you up like I seem to be so great at doing with everyone else in my life._

"So you don't wish to have sex?"

If Dean had been drinking anything, he would have choked. In fact, he might have choked on a bit of his own spit. Not that he would admit it or anything. "No. Yeah. I mean, yeah, I would like to eventually, but not yet."

Cas's eyebrows slid closer together and his forehead wrinkled a bit. "I thought that was how relationships worked? Do you not usually just have sex with someone you like?"

Dean slid his hand across the mattress so that the tips of his fingers rested against Cas's. "Cas, I don't want you to just be another fling. You mean more than that." He paused. "I think we should go on a date."

Cas's eyebrows furrowed again. "But doesn't that constitute a—what do you call it?—chick flick moment?"

Dean smirked. "Cas, there are chick flick dates and then there's my dates."

+++

Dean tried everything he could do in a small town before the sun was even up. He rented an action movie on Pay-Per-View and Cas just explained why almost all of the stunts and effects were impossible or would never occur in real life. Dean attempted to take Cas to a waffle house to get bacon and pancakes, but Cas only nibbled on a piece of bacon and left the rest of his food for Dean to eat. They carried on idle conversation the entire time, but it seemed like Castiel wasn't enjoying himself much at all. Dean could only think of one last thing which wouldn't cause the both of them to get diabetes from it being so disgustingly sweet.

Dean made sure the Impala was in park before he pulled the keys out of the ignition. He pushed his door open and climbed out. Castiel was standing on the other side when Dean glanced back over. Dean walked around to the trunk and pulled out an old blanket to spread across the ground. He had seen this lake when he and Sam were driving into town. And it might just be the one thing Cas would really enjoy. Or not. But it was worth a shot; Cas couldn't enjoy it much less than the other two attempts. The two of them lay in silence for what felt like hours, their fingers entwined together, both of them simply staring up at the stars filling the night sky.

Eventually, Castiel broke the silence. "You know, Dean, sometimes I wonder if my father even exists. Or if he doesn't, if there really is a god."

Dean rolled his head over so he could easily look at Cas. Cas was still staring upward as Dean's eyes wandered over Cas's face.

"Most would say I'm an angel, so I'm proof of a god. But what if I'm not an angel? What if I'm just another  _thing_ you should be hunting and my species has just been around long enough to create a system of lies to trick the younger members into doing what the older members want?"

Dean could have sworn he saw tears forming in Cas's eyes. He noticed a slight tremor in Cas's lower lip. "Cas, I have even fewer answers than you, but I don't think I would ever need to hunt someone like you. And besides, what's it matter if there  _isn't_ a god?" Dean moved closer to Cas. As he did, Cas rolled over and tucked his head against Dean's neck.

"I don't like thinking about what that means I am." Castiel was practically whimpering against Dean's neck. "What if I'm something detestable? What if I don't deserve you?"

Dean wrapped his arm around Cas and began rubbing his hand up and down Cas's back. "Cas, I don't give a shit who or what you are. Even if you  _aren't_ an angel of God, you've helped Sam and I with cases and saved my stupid ass countless times. That makes you an angel in my book, and I love you for that."

Cas fidgeted so that his body was pushed even tighter against Dean. He tilted his head up and a bit to the side. His lips— _slightly chapped_ , Dean realized—brushed against Dean's. Despite the feelings buzzing throughout Dean's body, their kiss remained almost entirely chaste, nothing more than an expression of their unadulterated love for each other. The hot, kinky sex could, and  _definitely_  would, come later on. But this—this intimacy; this closeness; this  _perfection_ —this is what Dean wanted. He just wanted to let his angel know he was loved.


End file.
